


Glacial

by LibraLibrary



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, Heavy Angst, Hypothermia, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Temporary Character Death, angst with a ???? ending, anywho no more dead lesbians its 20gayteen, but they're gone during the big stuff so, dont freeze lizards you sick fucks, flashbacks and pov shifts, half-ass lizard first aid, like bittersweet maybe, ocs in the first half, post-issue 6, rated for language and implied intimacy, splatter came back from the dead she's art lesbian jesus, takes place in the joe books comics continuity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 17:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16067477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibraLibrary/pseuds/LibraLibrary
Summary: Here's a bit of advice, friends: don't store your criminal lizard ladies in a cold room. It never ends well.





	Glacial

**Author's Note:**

> Bluhhh I just got really into this concept after a discussion about that panel in the Joe Books run where they had Camille in a cold cell next to Icy Vanderchill and said it makes her "docile" like yeah no that'll make her dead I know that shit first hand
> 
> I may or may not continue this because treating a hypothermic herp takes a lottttt more than happens in the fic so who knows this could make for a good short series

The moment the unlikely quartet breached the prison walls, the mysterious masterminds of the misadventure immediately set about enacting their individual plans. No amount of preparation made the experience any less disorienting, and Splatter blinked as the overwhelming circumstances of the situation hit her, like being dropped unexpectedly into cold water. In the brief moment she stood numbly in the corridor of the penitentiary, she was able to catch a glimpse of Ben on her left, ripping open the water main of the jail and coaxing several of the smaller members of her scaly retinue to slip into the pipes to spread havoc. On her right, Meredith plugged an unknown device into a newly-exposed patch of wires on the wall, immediately replacing the hideous wail of alert sirens with some overrated Powerline album. Both of them then darted off in opposite directions, grinning wildly in the heat of adrenaline as they set about raising hell. 

 

A sweep of gauzy crimson flashed in the corner of Splatter’s eye as Rose strode past, her confident leisurely pace a stark contrast to the frantic glee of her accomplices. One elegant red-clad arm gestured towards another corridor, delicate sleeves shifting over concealed patches of scar tissue and stitches. 

 

“Your girlfriend is down that hall. You can’t miss it, just run until your breath starts fogging. We’ll keep as much attention on ourselves as possible. Meet back up outside in twenty.”

 

Splatter watched the lovely revenant as she seemed to glide across the floor, before returning to her senses and shouting out an indignant challenge. “I can do this in fifteen!”

 

Rose glanced back over her shoulder, her unsettling diamond-bright gaze shining behind her veil and giving Splatter the feeling that the other living dead woman was amused. 

 

“Alright then. We’ll see you outside in ten.”

 

~*~

 

_ “What do you want from me?” _

 

_ The woman in red is lounging on a plush, ornate armchair that just _ screams  _ “look at me, I’m the scum accumulating at the top of the pond of wealth”, and her two lackeys, associates, whatever they choose to go by are perched on either arm. The bird in blue has a scaly little creature on her lap, dripping clear sheets of water with every sweep of her hand down its spine, and across the chair the dog girl with the high ponytail is reading the pathetic little illustrated capitalist commandments (thou shalt buy these comics, thou shalt buy these toys, thou shalt bow to your legislature,) that you escaped from. Or, more accurately, that they  _ freed  _ you from, but your pride is too wounded to admit your ravenous hunger upon being literally  _ brought back from the dead  _ let that purple-clad bastard get the upper hand and leave you powerless.  _

 

_ The dead woman (you can see it when she moves, the grace of her motion can’t hide the stitches and staples holding her together, or how breathing seems to be an occasional indulgence instead of a constant necessity) smiles at you. “As I said before, Miss Phoenix, we need to get into the maximum security prison. Ben here,” she gestures at the bird lady, “can get us to the island undetected, and Meredith,” the dog waves without looking up from the comic, disgusting, “can take care of getting our targets and ourselves out. We’d like you to get us in.” _

 

_ You cross your arms and sneer. “What, can’t even figure out how to get through a prison wall without someone else to do all the work for you?” _

 

_ Her eyes glint as her grin widens, and you start to feel like a mouse in a cage with a lion. “Oh we can certainly figure out something, if given the time to prepare. Unfortunately…” _

 

_ Her voice trails off as her grin vanishes, and she exchanges concerned eye contact with Ben. After a brief moment, she finishes, “one of our targets doesn’t have the luxury of time.” _

 

_ Something about her tone, and the almost  _ sad  _ way they’re all glancing at you, nearly throws you off, but she’s showing a vulnerability and you won’t miss your chance to take back the advantage. “Yeah? And perhaps you’d like to explain what’s in it for me?” _

 

_ The rose woman sits up straight, takes a deep inhale (the first in over five minutes, you note), and looks you dead in the eyes.  _

 

_ “That target is Camille Chameleon. And she’s dying in there.” _

 

_ Your blood, just like Camille’s, you’re soon to find out, turns to ice. _

 

_ ~*~ _

 

Splatter had no idea how long she’d spent with her hand against the glass, palm burning from the intense cold as she stared in absolute horror at the contents of the cell. Even though her rational mind knew that even a corrupt institution like this wouldn’t leave a corpse out in the open on display, her gut reaction to seeing just how tiny, how  _ skeletal _ Camille looked inside…

 

She looked  _ dead.  _

 

Splatter wasn’t sure when she had smashed the glass, shards crunching under her boots as she stumbled into the tiny cell and crouched by the corner her girlfriend had retreated to in a desperate attempt to escape the cold. Even with Vanderchill out of the area (“get out of here,” Splatter had barked upon destroying her own cell wall, “I don’t care what you do but  _ leave now”)  _ and probably off harassing some guards, the room was absolutely frigid. Curled up in her little corner, Camille didn’t appear to even be able to shiver anymore. She was so much scrawnier than she’d ever been before, her tail resembling nothing more than a trail of bone tightly wrapped in dry, thin flesh. Her eyes, shut tight against the horrid conditions, were sunken in, and her beak was slack and open. As Splatter leaned in, shakily reaching up to brush her fingers against her girlfriend’s cool cheek (it had been so long since she’d last seen her, she had literally  _ died _ in that time, but maybe in hindsight she’d had an easier time of it), Camille moved for the first time, the slightest unconscious twitch in response to warm, gentle contact for the first time in ages. 

 

A weak, shuddery wheeze escaped Camille’s gaping mouth, accompanied by an odd clicking. Splatter paled. 

 

Camille was sick. Starving and sick. 

 

_ “Jessssussss Mel, are you trying to kill me? Why issss the ac down ssso low? You know that I need warmth or I’ll get sssick, right?” _

 

_ “Sorry Cami, it’s hot under this smock.” _

 

_ “Well then paint naked, dumbassss!” _

 

The wheezing trailed off, tiny pathetic clicks becoming drowned out by the sound of approaching boots. Behind her, Splatter could hear someone, some poor, foolish someone, shouting for her to put her hands up and back away from the inmate. 

 

The  _ inmate.  _ That’s all they thought of the girl she loved and left behind, the woman they’d maliciously sentenced to a slow, agonizing death disguised as a containment procedure. 

 

Splatter didn’t realize until all of them were on the floor, gurgling around their shattered helmets and trying to drag themselves down the hall on broken limbs, that she had been crying. She shook her head, stepping over the pigs who had been stupid enough to test her at a time like this, and returned to Camille’s side. She carefully forced her arm up under her knees, struggling to gather up the fragile bundle of bones and orange jumpsuit. The cold had damn near turned her muscles to stone, and yet, despite her stiff limbs, Splatter was able to lift her like little more than a stuffed animal. 

 

She was way too light. Locked away in this makeshift walk-in freezer, she had literally been left to starve. As she rushed out of the cell and back towards the meeting point, she made sure to step on as many of the fallen guards as she could, too furious and terrified to even take pleasure from their pained grunts. 

 

~*~

 

_ “So why exactly do the three of you want in? This can’t all be about Camille.” _

 

_ Rose nods, gently shooing one of Ben’s tinier dragons off of the prison map. “You’re correct. Part of it is to spite the warden, because he’s a moron.” _

 

_ “That’s valid.” _

 

_ “Another part of it is to spring Megavolt. That’s why Meredith is coming.” _

 

_ You shoot a confused glance in the dog’s direction, and Meredith looks up from the gadget she’s toiling with. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Elmo’s been my best friend since childhood. Last time I abandoned him like this he became who he is now. He doesn’t belong in the pen, he belongs somewhere he can get some help.” _

 

_ You turn back to Rose, quirking an eyebrow and continuing your inquiries with a mocking tone. “And what, you’re in this to save your bff too?” _

 

_ Rose tosses back her head and laughs, genuinely laughs like some sort of aristocratic lady from a bad cartoon; good god she annoys you, but if you want to save Camille… _

 

_ She reaches under her veil and wipes at the corner of one stark white eye, and sighs. “Oh Splatter honey, that’s not it at all. I’m in this to get my hands on Negaduck. I’m going to rip his arms off and shove them up his own ass.” _

 

_ You don’t ask any more questions. _

 

_ ~*~ _

 

Splatter lost count of how many indisposed guards she had to pass on the way to the exit. Some of them were struggling to squirm out of their uniforms, fabrics smoking and metal melded to the wall, some were coughing and gurgling in scattered pools of water. Others….well, Splatter hadn’t asked what Rose’s abilities were, and if what she was seeing was any indication, she’d probably keep it that way. At least there didn’t seem to be any more guards coming after her. Lucky them. 

 

By the time Splatter made it out to meet the others, Ben and Meredith had formed a dual wall of flame and water around the rendezvous point, a bright flash of intense heat springing up behind her to close the gap in the wall. Meredith turned to greet her, but whatever she had planned on saying slipped her mind the moment she caught sight of the fragile convict in her arms. In the dim flickering light, Splatter was able to make out Megavolt peering out from behind Meredith, and Ben had left the maintenance of her own liquid blockade to several of her dragons, but…

 

“Where’s Rose-?”

 

Behind her on the prison roof, something exploded in a massive plume of smoke, and if she squinted, she could just barely make out the silhouette of a slender figure repeatedly slamming another person’s head against the concrete. 

 

“-“carry on your life’s work” huh? Well maybe you should’ve thought of THAT before being a bastard to your OWN kid, you stupid sack of shi-!”

 

“Don’t worry about her, she can handle herself,” Meredith reassured, quickly pressing Splatter forward to the water’s edge where Ben waited. “You two need to get out of here, she needs to be taken care of  _ now.” _

 

Ben met them just before the point where dry land dropped off into the bay, throwing her arm around Splatter’s shoulders and continuing to guide her to the water. Before they reached the end, the goddess leaned in close and whispered urgently in her ear. 

 

“Hold her tight, and be ready to get inside.”

 

Splatter didn’t ask questions, and she held the still-motionless Camille so close she could just barely feel the faintest hint of a heartbeat past the loose orange fabric. Her feet left the solid ground, the three of them dropped, just barely contacting the water….

 

Splatter blinked, and she backpedaled on the soft silt of the shore, held up by a strong pair of arms behind her and just barely remembering to not drop Camille. She took a second to process the change of scenery, cold black waves replaced by the silhouettes of trees in the faint moonlight before her, and the chaos of the breakout giving way to the soft lull of a creek behind. Once she was steady on her feet, she glanced over her shoulder, watching Ben step back in the water, grimacing and shaking her head. 

 

“Haven’t done that with passengers in over a decade. Are you alright?”

 

Splatter nodded numbly, and Ben gestured past her, indicating the nearby cabin overlooking the water. Splatter recognized it well enough; it was where her new partners in crime had released her from the cheap paper prison Darkwing Duck had left her in. She understood, not even pausing to say goodbye before she hurried up the gentle slope towards the hideout, paying no attention to the splash of Ben returning to finish what the quartet started at the prison. 

 

One of the girls had left the patio door cracked, and Splatter nudged it open, suddenly aware that, despite how light and emaciated Camille was, her arms were starting to burn as if she were carrying a massive weight. Splatter stumbled into the master bedroom, carefully setting her girlfriend down on the bed, and carefully examining her. 

 

She wasn’t gaping anymore. No more wheezing, clicking gasps. Just tiny, shallow breaths. 

 

Splatter swore violently, quickly pulling the sheets over the rigid, silent mutant before scrambling for the master bathroom. She and Camille had discussed how to treat hypothermia once before, nothing more than idle discussion while cuddling on a cool night, but now? Now, Splatter was desperately trying to remember the entire conversation, impatiently running her hand under the bathtub faucet and cursing as the water slowly reached a comfortable warmth. The moment she was satisfied with the temperature, she plugged the basin and hurried back to the bedroom. She carefully gathered her girlfriend, still swaddled in blankets, and carried her into the bathroom, gently sitting her down on top of the soft pile of fabric to protect her from the cool floor as Splatter frantically extracted her from the still-chilled jumpsuit. 

 

_ “Mel I sssswear to god if you rip my dresssss-“ _

 

_ “Please babe, I’m an  _ artist, _ I know how to treat a masterpiece. I’ll be gentle.” _

 

_ “Ha, I’m not that delicate, ssssweetheart. Don’t be too gentle.” _

 

But she  _ was _ delicate, now she  _ was _ delicate, and Splatter was absolutely terrified as she gently, so painfully  _ gently,  _ placed Camille in the lukewarm water. She cradled her girlfriend’s head as she slipped a rolled up hand towel under it, before pulling back to carefully run a warm wet rag up and down her stiff, pale limbs. 

 

“Come on Cami, come on, come back to me…”

 

The water quickly cooled, and Splatter spat a frantic string of curses as she cranked the hot tap back on, desperately trying to find the balance between hot enough to cause more harm and cool enough to not make a difference. 

 

“Please Camille, please come back, please…”

 

More hot water, more cold to even it out, more frantic passes with the rag as Splatter struggled to maintain even the barest hint of composure. Frustrated, she finally yanked the plug out of the tub and left the water running; if Rose wanted to bitch about the utilities bill later they could deal with that when it came up. 

 

When Camille was better. 

 

Because she had to get better. 

 

“Cami baby please. Please come back baby please wake up. Camille please.”

 

But she  _ wasn’t  _ getting better. 

 

The water continued to run, warm ripples lightly colliding with the cool flesh of the bathtub’s silent occupant. The surface churned, and the ends of dark blue hair fanned out under the water, but everything else was still. Camille wasn’t gaping, or wheezing, or clicking. Her limbs, dripping tiny rivulets of warm water, dangled limply over the edge of the tub. Her eyes, sunken in and bruised from weeks of a living hell, didn’t so much as flutter. 

 

The cabin, aside from the splashing of water and the soft  _ fwoosh  _ of the heater kicking on, was utterly silent. 

 

And then Splatter  _ wailed _ , shattering the melancholy tranquility as she pulled her limp, silent girlfriend close, burying her face in her messy hair. She clung to Camille and sobbed miserably, trembling like a single leaf in the wind, absolutely alone in her heartbreak. Her arms squeezed tight around Camille’s cool, wet body, one hand reaching up to hold her head as she nuzzled against the side of her face in grief. 

 

“I’m so sorry, Cami. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please.”

 

_ “God, you’re a cuddly one tonight huh.” _

 

_ “Sssshut up, it’ssss cold and you’re warm.” _

 

_ “Awwwww, is getting you to snuggle as easy as leaving the heat off?” _

 

_ “Bitch.” _

 

_ “Yeah, but you love me anyways.” _

 

_ “Yeah. I do.” _

 

“I’m sorry, Cami. I’m so sorry.”

 

Splatter had literally come back from the dead, an outright miracle, but that was where the magic ended. She had come back, yes, but she had come back too late. She had never gotten to say goodbye that night so long ago, never stopped to think she wouldn’t come home, and now?

 

Now she never would. She’d never get to say goodbye. She’d never get to say everything she’d neglected to, everything she wanted to say the moment she realized she had been given a second chance. 

 

The water continued to pour from the tap. The nightlife of the isolated woodland property chirped and croaked and cried into the cool, dark night. Splatter clung to Camille, tears long since depleted, and simply shuddered. 

 

“....-l.”

 

The sound was so soft it was lost under the white noise of the tap, at least at first. 

 

“....-el.”

 

That time, Splatter just barely caught the hint of a word, and she went absolutely rigid.

 

“..... _ Mel.” _

 

Splatter couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t dare allow herself to hope, for half a second...still, she hesitantly drew back a bit, glancing down. 

 

Camille’s eyes were only open a crack, just enough for hazy, wet yellow and black to peek out, rolling to track the motion of the artist above. The heavy eyelids slid back down, and what was only a minute before a stiff, limp body softly shook with the weak effort of a deep, quiet wheeze. 

 

“Mel.”

 

Tiny, hot tears sent tiny ripples across the wavering surface of the bath, and Splatter felt a shaky, incredulous laugh force itself out of her. She carefully reached up, brushing a limp and damp lock of hair from Camille’s face. “H-hi. Hi Camille. Welcome back…”

 

Camille groaned, and Splatter shut off the taps, gently leaning her girlfriend back against the tub again as she scrambled to retrieve some of the soft, oversized towels waiting in the closet. “Don't move, Cami, it’ll be alright, I’m-“

 

“....dead.”

 

Splatter froze, turning to look back and down at the exhausted, malnourished woman in the draining tub. “...what?”

 

Camille’s head lolled to the side, eyelids fluttering as she glanced momentarily at her girlfriend. They shut tight, and she sighed so deeply her fragile frame shook heavily. “Mel. You’re dead,” she whispered, voice as thin and worn as an old gravestone. 

 

“You’re dead.”

 

“Cami…”

 

“ _ We’re _ dead.”

 

Splatter fell silent, crossing over to the drained tub and carefully crouching alongside it to gently dry off each of Camille’s limbs. “We’re not dead, Cami. Not anymore, at least.”

 

“Yeah. Sssssure.”

 

Splatter snorted, discarding the now damp towel and grabbing another to cocoon her emaciated girlfriend in. That definitely sounded like Camille; maybe she’d be alright after all. She cautiously lifted the swaddled woman out of the tub, heart aching at the pained whimpers from her girlfriend at the movement, and carried her back into the bedroom. She gently set Camille, fluffy towel and all, back down on the bed, pulling all of the covers and blankets over her and tucking her in tight. 

 

Now that Camille was out of immediate danger, Splatter had the freedom to recognize just how  _ exhausted  _ she was, both physically and emotionally. After kicking off her shoes, she came around to the other side of the bed, sliding under the covers and reaching over to pull Camille close. Despite her own exhaustion, she managed to weakly snuggle into Splatter’s chest, sighing. “You’re ssssso warm,” she croaked, and her girlfriend managed and soft chuckle. 

 

“Yeah? Since when were dead people warm?”

 

Camille, in the process of slowly warming up, froze, and for a second Splatter felt a cold bolt of panic hit her spine as she glanced down. Camille stared back up, dark eyes wide with confusion, and after a brief, minor struggle, she freed one skinny arm. She reached up shakily, her fingers gently ghosting across Splatter’s still damp cheek. 

 

“....Mel?”

 

Splatter smiled softly, reaching up to lace her fingers between Camille’s and leaning in to the touch. “Hey Cami.”

 

Camille blinked, and then began to tremble as tears started to well up in her eyes. “You...you came back…”

 

Splatter pulled her in even closer, so close that the shaking spread across both of them, and she rested her chin atop Camille’s head as she continued to sob in grateful disbelief.

 

“Mel, you came back…you came back to me….”

 

Splatter blinked a few burning tears back, breathing in the cool scent of Camille’s hair and pressing a soft kiss against the top of her head. “I came back  _ for  _ you, baby, and I’ll never leave again.”

 

Eventually, Camille’s sobbing tapered off into soft, wheezing breaths as she slowly drifted off. Sleep eluded Splatter for a while after; Camille may have been out of the woods and on the path to recovery, but she was still dehydrated, and literally starved. It would take days to get her totally stable, weeks or even months for her to return to anything approaching full health. She had been a hair’s width from death, and even if the gap had been extended, she was still so frail…

 

Camille sighed weakly, nuzzling further into Splatter’s chest, and eventually, far from the chaos of St Canard and clinging to the woman she loved, Splatter Phoenix finally drifted off to sleep. 


End file.
